


Avengers Crossing

by sweatervest



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Crossing References, Characters Playing Animal Crossing Game(s), Domestic Avengers, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweatervest/pseuds/sweatervest
Summary: Animal Crossing appears on the Tower’s game console. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	Avengers Crossing

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is structured similar to a 5+1. Warnings for smashing gameplay from City Folk, New Leaf, and New Horizons all into one game, a stray Mad Men joke, and total disregard for Nintendo Switch not existing in 2012.

##### 1\. Clint

No one’s really sure whose fault it is but one day, there’s a new icon on the Switch’s home menu. Tony rolls his eyes and scoffs when he sees it, which makes Clint start it out of spite... and he then spends twenty minutes selecting the perfect island. 

“The cliffs have to border on the west, all right? Better for recon,” he explains. 

Next to him, Nat is nodding as if it’s obvious. She watches the Villager version of Clint, named Lucky, as he explores his new home. An elephant wearing a racing uniform and helmet emblazoned with a giant 3 introduces himself as Big Top and calls Villager Lucky “villain.”

“This game is weird,” Nat says and gets off the sofa. “Have fun building your island home, nerds.”

Clint grunts in reply, focused on edging towards what is absolutely not a to-scale cicada. 

“You have something to do with this?” Steve asks Tony. 

Tony snorts. “Please. There are plenty of superior games I’d sneak onto the Switch before I let Tom Nook set up his island.” 

“Aye,” Thor acknowledges, watching the game closely. “It seems a snail’s pace to your usual forms of virtual entertainment.”

“Racing games, shoot-‘em-ups. Occasional side-scroller,” Tony says to Steve’s quirked eyebrow. “Do you know what any of those mean?”

Steve sighs. “Yes, Tony, I’ve been reading the packets you’re sending me.”

“Then answer my invite to do battle, Rogers.”

“Wouldn’t you rather...just.” Steve waves one hand in a circular motion. “Spar in the gym?”

“I want to win sometimes, you know,” Tony replies because Steve makes him spar without the suit. “You need to be able to fight without it,” Steve had insisted. “In case it goes down and you’re cut off from us.”

Just as well. He dented it during the last mission, shouldering Tony out of path of a very large tree. 

Steve’s smile is more smirk, the one that means he’s about to say something dry and much funnier than America's Sweetheart Super Soldier ever has the right to be. Tony thinks Steve's wit is kind of his best feature. Outside of his physical features, he supposes, as others might argue, but Tony thinks they shouldn’t be included in this kind of question since Erskine's serum/unfair advantage/etc etc. The dry humor is all Steve. 

“AH HAH, gotcha you sneaky bug bastard!” Clint yells. “Time to meet the owl.”

Steve blinks. Tony’s head is tipped back, eyes on the ceiling. Thor leans further over the back of the sofa, growing more intrigued by the game. 

“You know,” Steve says into the silence. “I think I won’t ask.”

—

Their next mission is a week later. Clint is in a bad mood the whole time. 

“What’s your problem?” Nat finally asks him as they give Steve some cover. 

“There’s a fishing tourney today,” Clint gripes. “And I’m gonna miss it because these bastards couldn’t wait until _tomorrow_ to raid a secret SHIELD lab and then lose control of the shit they built.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony says over the comm. “Barton, are you mad because real life interrupted your little game?”

“There are trophies!”

“It’s true,” Thor’s voice interrupts. “It is quite important to acquire a trophy from C. J. Barton tells me it brings rank and glory to the island.”

“I’m sorry,” Nat says. “I was under the impression I worked with adults.” 

“I’m allowed to have interests other than shooting bad guys with arrows.” 

“I’ll buy you a participation trophy for this mission, how about that,” Tony offers. “Congratulations. You did your job. Minimally.”

“Why are you such a dick, Stark?”

“Cap, Barton’s being mean to me. It’s hurting my morale.”

“I‘m a little busy here,” Steve replies in a clipped tone. “Giant robot making portals, remember?”

“I see the weak point in its armor,” Thor says. “Fall back, my friends.” 

And there’s a very bright explosion.

“Finally,” Clint mutters and stomps off towards the quinjet.

  
  
  


##### 2\. Nat

Tony knows better than to say anything when he finds Nat curled in a corner of the couch with Clint’s Switch, humming along to a familiar tune. 

Clint sits at the kitchen table, sulking over a bowl of cereal. 

“Romanov finally get tired of your island obsession?”

“Swiped it from me on the mission because she didn’t need to be sent in. You know Nat gets bored.”

“And are you two kids sharing or do I have to tell your father?”

Clint glares at him. “Anyway. There were shooting stars—it’s a big deal, Stark, shut up—and now she’s been doing time resets to make up for all the events she missed.”

“Time resets?”

“Changing the time on the Switch. Lets you go back days or hours.”

“That’s... not a bad idea,” Tony says, impressed. 

“She beat my fishing tourney record,” Clint mutters. 

“Tell you what,” Tony says, desperate to change the subject. “I’ll make you some arrows that have fireworks. How’s that for shooting stars?”

Clint eyes him suspiciously. “The kind that crackle when they explode?”

“Sure, why not.”

Clint perks up at that. “You’ve got a deal, Stark.”

  
  
  


##### 3\. Thor

There is a howl of rage from somewhere above him and a crack of thunder so loud, Tony nearly takes his thumb off with a saw. He’s up the stairs and almost collides with Nat coming around a corner, Steve on her heels. Nat is pulling on her Widow Bites, otherwise in jeans, a t-shirt, and socks. Tony has his left gauntlet and a stripped down version of the suit’s display, covering one side of his face. Steve, bafflingly, carries a baseball bat. 

“Shield’s with my gear,” he says, catching Tony’s look as they run towards the rec room. “Don’t worry; I could always hit Bucky’s fast balls.”

“This is a very surreal conversation,” Tony replies. 

“Not less surreal when said by someone who looks like a cyberpunk opera ghost,” Nat calls back at him. 

“Is that—did you just make a _Phantom of the Opera_ joke?”

“Approaching target. Cover me.”

Nat crouches and uses her momentum on the hardwood to slide around the corner. Tony pauses at the corner and raises his left hand, gauntlet whining as it gathers power. Suddenly, Steve’s hand clamps around his wrist and yanks down. 

“Shit,” Tony says, and burns a hole through the floor. “Steve, what the _fuck_ —”

Steve stares past him. Tony turns. 

Nat sits cross-legged several feet into the room, presumably where she slid to a stop. She’s looking up at Thor.

“How dare he abandon my island when I have created such amusements as he asked for?” Thor is yelling. “This is a deep betrayal of our fellowship!”

“It’s just…something that happens,” Bruce says, making soothing gestures with his hands. “It’s how the game works. Sometimes the neighbors leave—for new adventures.”

Close to an opposite doorway, Clint perches on a counter, watching with barely-contained amusement. His bow and arrows are on his back. He also came at a run, thinking they were under attack.

“He left only a letter,” Thor howls, distraught. He shakes the Switch. “As if I did not build him his home!”

Nat looks back to where Tony and Steve are standing frozen in the doorway. She presses her lips together tightly and widens her eyes. Behind him, Steve chokes on a snort of laughter.

“I hate all of you so fucking much,” Tony proclaims.

  
  
  


##### 4\. Steve

Steve, Tony notices, has absolutely terrible posture when he plays video games. He sinks back into the couch like it could swallow him up and burp out an American flag, slouches down until his head is almost level with the back. 

_The serum probably prevents back pain,_ Tony thinks jealously. 

He’s agreed to play the video games Tony recommends, potentially just to humor him. Tony doesn’t care because this means he’s won and can add another little tick mark on his side of the mental scoreboard. Even if Steve insists he’ll play _no more than_ 60 minutes a day and _only after_ all his work is done. 

He likes the classic Nintendo side-scrollers and puzzle games. The first-person shooters were, predictably, not a hit. But what Tony doesn’t expect is how much Steve loves an open-world game. He thinks Steve would play for hours if he let go of his own self-imposed strict schedule once in a while. There’s a soft expression of wonder he only wears when exploring an open-world. It makes the war and years locked away under ice vanish and nearly removes Tony’s urge to smother Steve with a pillow when he talks to every. single. person. in a village before leaving. 

Really, Tony should have expected what came next. 

He’s just returned from a meeting at Stark Industries, loosening his tie as he walks into the rec room. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Tony says, exasperated. “Not you, too.”

Steve laughs without turning around. “Hard to argue with a game where you can’t be wrong.” 

“Then what’s the point? There are no stakes in that.” Tony sighs as he walks over to stand behind the couch. “You’re a disappointment, Rogers.”

On the screen, Steve’s Villager (Cap) surfaces from a dive underwater, holding a clump of seaweed. _I couldn’t kelp myself,_ he proclaims. 

Tony groans, bracing his forearms on the back of the couch behind Steve’s shoulders. 

Steve tips his head back to look at Tony. “I like the puns,” he says. 

“You would,” Tony mutters. “You had your own musical number that ended with you punching out a pure evil world power.”

“Is there a 20th century connection between puns and bad sales pitches I’m missing?”

“Jingles, mostly.” Tony shrugs. “Wordplay.”

“Hmm,” Steve says. “Is this why you tried to talk me into watching that show about the ad agency?”

“ _Mad Men_ is classic.”

“Everyone on that show,” Steve says emphatically, “is an asshole.”

“So you’ve decided to run away to a small island run by a raccoon obsessed with real estate and no competitors?”

“Beats running over someone’s foot with a mower.”

Tony looks down at him with a grin and only then realizes how close they are. 

“You’re a complicated star-spangled man,” Tony tells him. “Seriously, what is it about this game? Explain it to me. I’ll listen. Maybe.”

“It’s simple. Small, clear goals. Nice to have something compact in a while.”

“Kirby was compact.”

“Compact and self-directed,” Steve corrects. “Took a lot of orders in my life, Tony. Still do. Not sure I want it here, too.”

Tony nods. “The American Dream.”

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“You were my last hope, you know. I meant it when I said you were a disappointment.”

Steve’s grin is slow and laced with mischief. “Liar,” he says and oh, it is delicious how the word curls on his tongue.

Tony thinks about how he could cup the underside of Steve’s chin and tug just a little, pull him into a kiss. The kind where Tony can keep him pinned for a few breathless moments and show Steve the other uses for a smart mouth. 

An alert slices through the moment and Steve fumbles for his phone. It’s the alarm marking the end of his video game time. 

“Don’t worry, Cap,” Tony says, straightening up and retreating. “We’ll play another time.”

There’s heat in the gaze Steve sweeps up Tony’s body and Tony has a moment to think _uh oh_ before Steve says, low and firm: “Sure thing, Tony.”

Tony nearly walks into the doorframe on his way out. He is not, he tells himself, going to change his opinion of that game.

  
  
  


##### 5\. Bruce

It’s supposed to be a routine mission, just like all the others they’ve been sent on in the months after they all returned to the Tower. Their intel is bad. One of the rogue Hydra agents gets in a lucky shot, and Steve goes over the railing.

There’s a dull slam of impact and Steve’s hard breath over the comms. 

“Cap, you okay?” Tony asks. 

He doesn’t answer. Tony peels off and circles back to Steve’s last position. 

“Talk to me, Steve,” Tony says. “You’ll make the kids worry.”

“Got me by surprise,” Steve grits out. “Couldn’t get the shield under me.” 

“Keep moving in,” Tony tells the rest of the team. “Banner, I need you to suit up, buddy. I’ll get the old man.”

Steve is on his feet when Tony lands. He rolled down an embankment, and there’s one long scrape down right side of his face. 

Tony flips up the face plate. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“What?”

“You could have a dashing scar, if the serum wouldn’t clean that right up.”

Steve huffs a laugh, wincing a little as he does. “Tony, I need you to do something for me.”

“Rescue you from this pit? I should tell you, there is payment required.” 

Steve pulls the shield off his arm and hooks it on his back. Tony pauses, looks carefully at him. His left arm hangs slack at his side, shoulder not quite right. 

“Got my arm caught in a log on the way down,” Steve explains. “I need you to push it back in.”

“I’m sorry, what.”

“My shoulder, Tony. I need you to help me realign it.”

“Jesus, Steve. Just...let me get you out of here and we’ll get you to a doctor when—”

“I’m a liability,” Steve interrupts sharply. “The fight is too close, and I can’t do anything with this arm the way it is now.”

“You shouldn’t be trying to after it’s back in the socket, anyway,” Tony snaps back. “The serum isn’t that good.”

“At least I can cover a retreat.”

Tony glares and Steve glares back, his jaw clenched. There’s no winning an argument with him, not in this mood. 

“Sit.”

Steve sits. Tony flips down the faceplate and runs a scan over Steve’s arm and shoulder. He places his hands where JARVIS indicates and raises power levels into the armor. He takes a deep breath. 

“Ready?”

Steve jerks his head in a nod. Tony pushes. There’s a pop and Steve’s other hand takes a hunk out of the rock he’s sitting on. He doesn’t make a sound except for his harsh breathing, and Tony feels hate swell in his chest for everyone who taught Steve to be a soldier first. 

“Let’s go,” Steve says, getting to his feet. 

He holds his arm tucked against his stomach the whole way back. 

—

Tony gets the quinjet off the ground and switches on autopilot. 

Bruce sits on the bench, wrapped up in a quilt. Nat presses against his side, chin tucked over Bruce’s shoulder. They’re both looking down at a Switch. 

Tony turns to where Steve leans back against the opposite wall. He holds his bad arm against his chest, eyes closed. Tony sits next to him. 

“So,” he says. “I hated that.”

Steve’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Wasn’t much of a picnic for me, either.”

“We’ll have to debrief Fury about his intel. How much yelling is acceptable in a debriefing?”

“Not much,” Steve says wryly. 

“Hm. Guess we’ll have to test it.”

“Tony—” 

Tony cuts him off, not interested in hearing Steve’s defense of Fury. Not when he can see Steve’s shoulder has already started to swell. “Is that what I think it is?” 

Steve finally looks at Tony, with an _I know why you’re changing the subject_ expression before following his gaze to Bruce and Nat. He closes his eyes again. “Care to be more specific?”

“Has Banner fallen in with the rest of you island dwellers?”

“I’m almost positive Bruce is the one who put the game on the Tower Switch in the first place.”

“Huh,” Tony says. “Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“He says it’s relaxing.”

“Sure. Explains the—” and Tony motions at the scene in front of them. “Really? Relaxing? After Thor’s response...” he shrugs. 

“Nat says he has a high-ranking island but he did it on accident. It makes her crazy because he doesn’t seem to care.”

“How long has that been going on?”

Steve shrugs his good shoulder.

“For the team leader, you sure don’t pay attention, Cap.”

“If it doesn’t affect the missions, it’s not my business.” 

Tony is quiet for a few moments, then: “it bothers you, too, doesn’t it, that he has a high-ranking island on accident?”

Steve draws in a long breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ll get my five stars when I get them, Tony.”

Tony hides a smile and crosses to Bruce and Nat. 

“So,” Tony says. “I hear this is all your fault.”

Bruce grins sheepishly. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t think it would be so popular?”

Tony tilts his head evaluating. “Jury’s out. Thor was an unexpected variable.”

Bruce winces and nods. “Sorry about the floor.”

“Apologize by helping me out in the lab this weekend.”

“Done.” Bruce pauses. “The game is more fun when you have friends to play with,” he offers as an explanation. 

“You’re missing a present,” Nat says. “Ten o’clock.”

Bruce looks back down and Tony watches Villager Bruce pull out a slingshot and pop a balloon floating overhead. A present drops to the ground. 

“Open it, open it, open it,” Nat murmurs into his shoulder, a delighted smile on her face. 

“Come on tea table,” Bruce says. 

Villager Bruce opens the present; a tea table appears. He and Nat cheer. Tony glances back over his shoulder to catch Steve sitting up and smiling at the three of them. 

Tony returns to the pilot seat. 

_More fun with friends, huh,_ he considers. _Well. Couldn’t hurt to try._

  
  
  


##### 6\. Tony

It wasn’t atypical for Tony to spend days in the lab before one of them went downstairs to haul him out. Bruce, sometimes, if it’d been less than 24 hours and Tony’s reasoning could still be mostly followed. More frequently, it was Steve, who could carry Tony should it be necessary (often) or if there was a scenario in which someone had to pry open a robot’s grip so Tony could wiggle free (current count: 5). 

They’re well into Day 4 when Steve makes a routine check that Tony has a) eaten, b) drank enough water, and c) not gotten half-stuck in a glowing portal that goes God-knows-where again. 

No robots, no portals. Just Tony hunched over a screen, muttering to himself. 

“Tony?”

Tony jumps and spins around, catches his heel on a table and starts to tip. He makes a sound like he’s clearing his throat when Steve grabs him and sets him back on his feet. 

“You all right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony mumbles, rolling his neck and shoulders. “Feels like it’s all there.” He blinks up at Steve. “Help you with something, Cap?”

“You’ve been down here for four days. Thought I’d check in and...”

He catches sight of the screen over Tony’s shoulder. 

“That’s that raccoon,” Steve says slowly. “The one obsessed with real estate.”

“Tanuki, technically. They’re like a raccoon dog. Mostly in Japan.” Tony blinks a few more times. “I don’t trust him.”

“I thought you said it was a waste of time. 'Who would want to play a game where all you do is everyday tasks.'”

“I guess I did.”

Steve’s expression settles into his _I can wait for this explanation all day_ face. He folds his arms and leans back against a table.

“You weren’t impressed with Clint’s fishing tourney trophies.”

“Shooting fish in a barrel is just an expression, Cap.” 

“I think Thor was hurt you didn’t share his sadness over Bam leaving his island.” 

Tony frowns. 

“And I remember some unflattering things said about my blue windflowers.” Steve looks to the ceiling then slowly back down at Tony. “So. Now _you’re_ playing it.”

“It was an experiment,” Tony snaps defensively. “See what the big deal was. I had JARVIS scan it for brainwashing alien tech because you were all so sucked into it.”

“Find anything?”

Tony lights up like Steve asked him to demonstrate his latest idea. “I know how to make it better.” 

“Make it better,” Steve repeats, one eyebrow going up. 

Tony turns back to the Switch, pulling up a screen above him that’s filled with notes that begin logically enough (“Tom Nook: upgrades house, undersells on bugs. Wait for Flick”; “Scorpions appear in evening”) and then descend into chaos (“Eugene is Barton”; “Exile Gigi, fat-shamed Boomer”; and “Gulliver needs latest Stark phone”). 

“Tony,” Steve begins, staring as he realizes the list moves into charts and graphs and—are those surveillance reports on the other villagers? “Tony are you trying to hack into this game.”

“The secret is to start looking at what can make you the most bells the fastest, right? Well, it’s not the stalk market; that’s a waste of time and there's no logic to it. But if you start building up a supply of fruit from your island and travel to others’ islands with your tools and—hey! What—are you doing. Aren’t you _listening_ , I can make this stupid game better if you just—”

It’s really not much of a fight, Super Soldier vs. Sleep-Deprived Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist but Tony squirms and kicks at Steve, even manages to throw an elbow in his gut. After a few minutes of struggle, Steve pins Tony’s legs and tosses him over a shoulder. 

“JARVIS, please close up the game and shut down anything else that’s on down here.”

“With pleasure, Captain Rogers.”

“Traitor,” Tony whines. 

“You need to sleep,” Steve tells him, striding for the door. “For a full night. Without making government surveillance files for the villagers on your island. Who are fictional.”

“Pierto’s up to something,” Tony mutters into Steve’s back. “It’s a matter of island security.”

“Uh huh.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“What fruit is on your island.”

“I’ll tell you after you’ve slept at least eight hours,” Steve assures him as he walks into Tony’s bedroom. 

“I’ve had a sudden inspiration about peaches.”

Steve dumps him on the bed unceremoniously. “Sleep now. Thinly-veiled comments about my ass later.”

“Promise?” Tony murmurs and Steve throws a pillow at him. 

“Bed, Tony. Goodnight.”

Tony watches Steve leave and folds his arms over the pillow. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You saved my game file, right? I just completed all my fossils. Blathers will be disappointed if they’re gone tomorrow.”

“I took the liberty of doing so.”

“Thanks, pal,” Tony says and rolls over, falling asleep almost immediately. 

\--

A week later, Steve logs into his island, feeling the day’s tension unspool from his shoulders as Isabelle greets him with an island update. When Villager Cap walks into his garden, Steve pauses. 

His blue windflowers, which he feels no small measure of pride over cross-pollinating successfully after weeks of planting and watering, have changed. Most of them are still blue. The rest have kept their blue centers but the base of the petals are red, then white at the top, forming rings not unlike...

“Oh hey that’s weird.”

Steve almost squeezes the controllers flat. Tony stands behind him in a rumpled Metallica t-shirt and jeans with burn marks Steve will be asking about later. 

“I thought you were working on some new Stark Tech,” Steve says suspiciously. 

Tony shrugs. “Taking a break.”

“Really.”

“Yep. Nice flowers, though. You should see if you can collect seeds from them. Avengers collectibles or something in-game. Marketing or PR opportunity. Distract the press.” 

There’s something funny twisting in Steve’s chest, affection and annoyance all at once. 

“Maybe,” he says. “But I think I might want to keep them to myself for now.” He shakes off an edge of melancholy shadowing the affection. “What kind of fella doesn’t appreciate flowers, after all.”

Tony laughs. “That’s the spirit. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He starts to walk away, then pauses in the doorway. “Oh, um. Avoid the river for a while.”

“What?”

“Boots is, uh. Exploring his alligator side. Seems to be a glitch.”

“Tony—!”

“Just! Fish in the ocean today! Maybe tomorrow? Hey! Pillows are _not_ soft when you throw them, Rogers!”

Tony flees down the hall and Steve falls back down onto the couch. He closes his eyes and takes a deep ujjayi breath like Bruce taught him. Cautiously, Steve directs Villager Cap towards the river. There’s a shadow in the water, more log-shaped than fish. Steve sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and tries to muffle his laughter.

  
  
  


##### Post-Credits Scene

One morning after his run, Steve finds a bowl of peaches in the center of the table. 

“They were in season,” Tony says from the other side of the counter. “Bought a bushel. Or a peck? Never could keep those straight.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Is that so.”

“Sure is. I thought you might like some.”

“Hmm,” is Steve’s reply. He joins Tony in the kitchen area and pours himself a cup of coffee. “Hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”

“Not a peach fan, then?”

“Used to be allergic.”

“Well, here’s your opportunity to give them another try, Cap.”

Steve is staring at him over the top of his coffee mug. Tony blinks. Steve puts his mug down on the counter, then calmly crowds Tony up against the wall. Tony’s breath catches as Steve leans in close, and he realizes he has completely lost control of the situation. 

“You know,” Steve says casually, as if Tony can’t smell the sweat and faint cling of early summer mornings in the city on his skin. “If you’d like to go on a date, you can just ask me out like a normal person.”

“Neither of us are normal, Steve,” Tony says and it’s a miracle he can string that sentence together when Steve’s palm is flat on his hip. 

Steve seems to consider this. “Point taken, Stark.” 

Then he’s nudging Tony’s chin up, and Steve’s mouth is warm against his, kissing Tony like he has all day to pin Tony against this wall and short-circuit his brain. 

“Fuck,” Tony says when they break apart. “You did not learn to kiss like that in 1945.”

“Mm,” Steve murmurs, lips brushing along Tony’s cheek and chin to nip at his ear. “Nat had some pointers.”

“I’ll have to send her a gift bask— _Nat_ had pointers? Back up a minute. When did Romanov—”

“Shut up,” Steve replies and kisses him again. “Or I won’t let you take me somewhere nice.”

 _Well that is a fine point,_ Tony decides and does.


End file.
